The Murder That Never Was: A Forensic Instincts Novel (12 page)

“Shit.” He exhaled sharply, still staring at her, an incredulous expression on his face. “Julie Forman, my ass. You’re Lisa Barnes.”

With a soft cry, Julie dropped the two cups of coffee on the floor and took a step backward, fear filling her eyes. Hot, black liquid shot out everywhere, but she was oblivious to it, even as it splattered her workout gear, doubtlessly burning her. She looked like a terrified bird, and, instinctively, her gaze darted to Milo.

She saw the ashen expression on his face and fell apart.

“I don’t… I never meant… It’s not what you think…”

“Julie, shut up.” Realizing she was about to spill her guts, Miles snapped into survival mode. Surviving, and protecting his best friend, trumped all else—just as it always had.

His jaw tightened, and he repressed any signs of upset or fear. “Are you cops?” he asked Ryan and Marc.

“Nope,” Marc replied. “Just concerned citizens helping out a friend.”

“A friend? What friend?”

“That’s irrelevant. Your elaborate pretense is what’s relevant.” Marc took a few menacing steps forward. “Care to share?”

“Nothing to share.” Milo jammed his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know who you’re working for or what you’re after, but we have nothing to say to you. If you’re looking for someone named Lisa Barnes, we don’t know her. She doesn’t work here. So you’ve reached a dead end. Now I suggest you go back where you came from. And tell your
friend
to leave us alone.”

Ryan arched a brow. “After all the time I took figuring out why you needed a permanent escape plan? I don’t think so. In my experience, the only people who want to fall off the map are either scared or guilty. Which is it, Scooby?”

Before Miles could reply, Julie jumped to his aid. “Miles did nothing. As for me, I’m not Lisa…”

Ryan waved his arm, cutting her off at the pass. “You can forget taking the Fifth. I enhanced photos of Lisa Barnes myself. I also checked out photos of Julie Forman. You sure as hell resemble each other. And I see you made a few decent changes to your appearance to play that up. But not enough to hide your real identity. So skip the denials.”

Julie—Lisa—began trembling from head to toe. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. Clearly, she’d reached her breaking point.

“Please leave us alone,” she begged. “We’re just living our lives. We’re not hurting anyone.”

“But have you hurt anyone?” Marc demanded. “That’s what we’re really interested in hearing about.” He pressed on, capitalizing on her current emotional weakness. “We originally thought that Julie Forman might have joined forces with your friend Miles here to do away with Lisa. Now it turns out that it’s Julie Forman who’s dead. That opens up a whole new realm of whys.”

“It also makes a lot more sense,” Ryan added. “Given how close Lisa and Miles were through eighteen years of shared foster care, why would he ever kill her? But Julie Forman, a relative stranger who might have had something on them? Or maybe someone with an inheritance that was ripe for the taking? That’s another story entirely.”

Spotting Miles’ start of surprise, Ryan said, “Oh, did you think I hadn’t done my homework on Julie Forman? You should know better. I know all the details of the real Julie’s life, including that tidy little inheritance her parents left her.” A quick scan of the gym. “I can see you’ve put it to good use.”

“Stop it!” Julie—Lisa—was bordering on hysteria. “Please, I don’t know what you plan to do to us, but can we at least go into my office and talk first?”

“No talking,” Milo responded, a warning gleam in his eye. “We have nothing to say.”

“Please, Milo.” The woman standing there, shaking, had obviously taken all she could. “I have to know who’s after us. I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about. We’ve done nothing wrong. And no one is going to hurt us. So just go clean up and teach your next class. I’ll show these guys out.”

After a long moment of hesitation, Julie turned away, numbly heading for the ladies’ room.

Miles swallowed, looking at the floor as he spoke, much of his bravado gone. “I’m not stupid. You busted your ass to find me—to find us. That means whoever you’re working for wants us pretty badly. We don’t know anything. We’re not a threat. Please make sure they know that.” He raised his head. “And please, tell them to leave
Julie
and me alone.”

Marc shot Ryan a sidelong look. Murderers? These were no offenders. These were victims—two frightened children with nowhere to turn.

Somewhere out there was a killer. And Miles and Lisa were right in the line of fire.

Ryan returned Marc’s look with a quick nod of agreement and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Like I said, my name is Ryan McKay,” he told Miles, handing over the card. “This is Marc Devereaux. We work for an investigative firm called Forensic Instincts. Look it up. We’re the good guys. With an awesome track record. Clearly, there are bad guys out there who you think are looking for you. Talk to Lisa. Then give us a call. We can help.”

“We don’t need help,” Miles replied, even as he took Ryan’s card, scanning the information on it.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, making direct eye contact. “You do.”

Lisa would always be Lisa. In every way that mattered, Julie was dead.

Those words kept drumming and drumming inside Lisa’s head. They were followed by: Would she and Milo be the next to die?

Sitting up on the bed, back against the headboard and knees drawn up to her chest, she waved away Milo’s attempts to calm her down.

“This whole charade is over,” she said. “All the endless work you put into recreating us, relocating us, cutting off ties—it was all for nothing. They found us. They know who we are.”

“Who are they?” Milo countered. “Yeah, Forensic Instincts knows who and where we are. But they’re not in the killing business. So who’s after us? And which person are they after—Lisa or Julie?” Milo shook his head in frustration as he paced the room. “It could be someone from Lisa’s past who’s coming out of the woodwork after all these years. Or it could be someone who saw Julie as a threat, based on those Facebook messages you’re getting from that kid, Shannon. Added to that, do they even know who they killed and who’s still alive?”

“Does it matter? Whether I’m Lisa or Julie, someone is after me.”

“Of course it matters. I get it that we’re in trouble. But we have to figure out the whos and whys, Lis.” It was the first time Milo had abandoned the use of Julie as her name. “I looked up Forensic Instincts. They’re a pretty big deal. And Ryan McKay borders on genius. He definitely knows everything there is to know about us, including our entire life history.”

“Great. And he’s working for a client who’s after us.”

“Is he?” Milo frowned, his brain trying to untangle the pieces. “Then why did he give us his card instead of a bullet to the head? That doesn’t fit.”

“I guess not.” Julie couldn’t deny that one.

“I’m leaning toward calling them,” Miles said. “The longer we do nothing, the greater the chances are of us getting hurt.” He purposely omitted the “kill” word.

“We could just take off, start over somewhere else.” Julie’s eyes were desperate. She hated that she was even saying this. The home she’d thought she’d found was disintegrating before her eyes. But staying alive trumped nesting.

Milo scowled. “That wouldn’t be my first choice, not given the situation. But if we have to, we will.”

“You do have that backdoor plan, right?”

“Of course.”

But Milo’s gut twisted. He couldn’t tell his best friend, who trusted him with her life, that his backdoor plan had evaporated the minute Ryan McKay had walked into Excalibur.

Now they were on their own.

Ryan called a team meeting at the brownstone the minute he and Marc got back to Tribeca.

He explained everything that had happened in Upper Montclair, concluding with the fact that Miles and Lisa were in deep trouble—the kind of trouble that ended with dead bodies.

“
She’s alive
?” Emma’s eyes were wide as saucers. “This is so creepy. I never thought…” She broke off, looking at Casey. “We’re not going to let this go, are we?”

Casey blew out a breath. “It’s not a matter of letting it go, Emma. It was never ours to begin with. In order to have a case, Lisa and Miles have to come to us. They have to want our help. We can’t force it down their throats.”

“They will come to us,” Ryan assured her. “They’re scared shitless. Give them some time to sort it out. Miles Parker is a smart guy. And Lisa is over the edge. Between the two, we’ll be hearing from them soon.” A pause. “Casey, I’ve got to be honest. I don’t think I can let it go, either. I met them. They’re younger than I am. And we’re talking about murder. I couldn’t live with myself if they were killed because I backed off.”

Casey nodded. “I can’t disagree with you. Just promise me that you won’t compromise the Worster case. His life’s in danger, too. And he’s already our client.”

“I won’t,” Ryan promised. “I can handle both. You know that. I never do just one thing at a time; it bores me to death. I’ve gotta keep my mind in a bunch of places to keep it sharp. Don’t worry. We’ll get the son of a bitch who’s threatening Mr. Worster. And we’ll rescue our soon-to-be clients, too.”

Emma grabbed Ryan’s arm on the other side of the conference room door. “Once Lisa calls, I want to help,” she said adamantly, but quietly so it stayed between them. “Remember, I’m the one who brought her case to FI.”

Ryan’s lips twitched. “Jumping the gun a little, aren’t you, Feisty? What case?”

“The one you just told Casey was a phone call away.” Emma’s chin came up. She wasn’t backing down an inch. “I know that you don’t plan on waiting for them to call. I know you’re on your way to your lair, ready to burn up your computer so you can get information on whoever might be after them.”

“Busted,” Ryan admitted. Emma’s gutsy nature was something he admired. She might be young, but she was as worldly as they came. “You want to get your feet wet. I get it. Okay, I’ll keep you in the loop. And I’ll put in a good word with Casey about you working this with me
if
—and it’s still an
if
—Lisa and Miles contact us.”

“Okay.” Emma’s stance relaxed a bit. “I’ll wait to hear what you find out. It should take you about an hour.”

“An hour?” Ryan shook his head. “You have way too much faith. It’s going to take a lot longer than that. This is hard, detailed work.” A grin. “I just make it look easy because I’m that good.”

“Yeah, well, go downstairs and be that good. And I don’t mean with Claire. You two can burn up the rug in your lair later. Now it’s work time.”

Ryan blinked. “How the hell did you know…?”

“I know everything that goes on here,” Emma informed him. “I’m the human equivalent of Yoda. And remember, he taught me everything I know.”

“Subject dropped.” Ryan was already descending the staircase. “And I wouldn’t share your theories with Claire-voyant. She’s not as uninhibited as I am.”

“No one is.”

Emma waited until Ryan had disappeared before she headed down to her first-floor desk.

So much for part one—getting Ryan to agree to share his findings with her.

Part two was something Ryan hadn’t considered.

She was FI’s executive assistant—the very person who answered the phones.

So bring on Lisa and Miles. She’d be waiting.

Shannon sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching her iPad and rereading the highlighted section of the Apex Olympic Gymnastic Center’s newsletter for the dozenth time. Her heart pounded harder and faster with each reading.

Jim Robbins had been officially declared missing. He’d last been seen on Friday afternoon at Apex, leaving for a few days’ vacation. It was now Wednesday, five days later. He hadn’t reported to work, hadn’t contacted his friends or colleagues, and hadn’t shown up at his apartment—according to his live-in girlfriend, who’d been told by Jim that his trip was going to be all business. All attempts had been made to reach him, and they’d all come up empty. The police were now involved, and, as of yet, there were no clues, much less results.

Shannon whimpered and fell back on her pillows.

What was she going to do? Were the cops going to interview her? Did they know that she and Jim had argued right in the middle of the Apex parking lot last week? Would she be a suspect? Would she be forced to tell them what she knew?

And, even scarier, was Jim dead? Had whoever he was working for killed him? Had he become a liability rather than an asset?

How would that impact her? Was she next on the hit list?

She had to get out of here.

Grabbing her iPad, she opened up Facebook and began composing a private message to Julie.

Julie was dealing with her own fears, and the last thing on her mind was checking her Facebook messages.

She was at the gym, trying to go about her business, trying to distract herself. It worked pretty well when she was giving aerobics classes or working with individual clients. Not so well when she was in her office, lost in thought and imagining the worst. Milo was back in the apartment, locked away in his bedroom, pounding on his keyboard. When he was in that mode, he didn’t talk. He just worked. And Julie didn’t push him. She just prayed that, whatever he was doing, it pertained to their backdoor escape route. Because her nightmares were becoming vivid, and every time the front door of the gym jingled, she was terrified that killers were on their way in.

A little after three o’clock that Monday, her fears were realized—but in a completely different way.

The door did jingle, and, as she had for the past three days, she jumped in her office chair, her head shooting up so she could peer out front and see who had entered.

Two men in suits were showing ID to the receptionist at the desk. And, based on instinct and experience, Julie knew they were cops.

She whipped out her cell phone and called Milo.

“I’m working,” he answered.

“Two detectives are here,” Julie hissed into the phone.

“Where are they and where are you?” Milo demanded.

“They’re at the front desk. I’m in my office.”

“Get into your private ladies’ room—
now
. Stay there as long as a woman can pull it off. I’m on my way.”

Thank God they’d installed a small bathroom attached to Julie’s office.

She rushed inside and locked the door behind her. Going straight to the sink, she turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Dragging air into her lungs, she looked up at the mirror over the sink. Her eyes were wide and terrified. And she was pale as a ghost.

She couldn’t face the police looking like this.

Carefully, she dried her face, trying not to wipe off her makeup. Her handbag was in her office, so she didn’t have access to anything replenishing. Time to improvise.

She pumped a little body lotion onto her palm and smoothed it over her hands and lips. Close enough to lip gloss—at least her mouth looked full and soft rather than drawn and naked. And her hands looked as smooth as her manicured nails.

That done, she combed her fingers through her hair and played with it until it looked stylish and put-together. She adjusted her Lycra workout outfit, which was form-fitting and needed little help to look good. Then, she pinched her cheeks, bringing some much-needed color into them.

Last and most important, she forced the terrified look from her eyes and replaced it with calm professionalism. She’d done enough acting in her life. It was time to do some more.

A tentative knock at the bathroom door. “Julie?”

“Yes, Marti?”

Her receptionist made an audible swallow. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but there are two detectives up front who want to speak to you. What should I do?”

The poor girl was in total freak-out mode. Not that Julie could blame her.

“I’ll be right out to handle it,” Julie called back. “It’s probably about the robbery attempt in the jewelry store down the street.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Of course.”

No wonder Marti sounded as if she’d never heard about any robbery attempt. There hadn’t been any.

“Also, Miles just walked in,” Marti added. “He’s not at the computer, so I guess he wants to talk to you, too.”

With a deep breath, Julie unlocked the door and stepped out. “Sounds like I’m very popular today,” she said with a smile.

Marti had clearly calmed down. Seeing her boss look and act so natural calmed her down even more.

“Please send the detectives to my office. And just tell Milo I’m in here with them.”

“Okay.” The teenage girl trotted off, her ponytail swinging as she gestured to Milo and headed up to the front desk.

Julie sat down at her desk, thumbing through some paperwork.

A minute later, the two detectives appeared, one of them knocking on her open door.

“Ms. Forman?” he asked.

“Yes.” Julie rose. “Come in, Detective…?”

“Atkins,” he supplied. “And this is Detective Brown.”

Detective Brown acknowledged her, as well. He was tall and lanky with salt-and-pepper hair. Atkins was shorter and paunchier, and probably a few years older than his partner. Neither of them looked like they were about to go in for the kill and arrest her. They just looked like they were here to do their job.

“Nice to meet you both.” Julie rose and shook their hands, wishing Milo would get his ass in here. “What can I do for you?”

“We just have a few questions,” Atkins said.

“About?”

“What happened in Chicago. Lisa Barnes’ murder, to be specific.”

Julie nearly wept with relief. They might think she knew something, but they didn’t know she was Lisa Barnes.

She sank down in her chair, genuine tears filling her eyes as she thought back to that day, something she desperately tried to block out. “It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. I freaked out in a way I’ve never done before.”

“Indeed,” Detective Brown said. “The thing is, you grabbed a few things, left your apartment, your places of employment, your entire life in Chicago, and you ran. You didn’t even stay long enough to call 911. Why is that? Did it ever occur to you that Lisa Barnes might still be alive? That the EMTs could have gotten her to the hospital and saved her?”

Julie shook her head, grabbing a tissue to wipe her eyes. “I’m ashamed to say it, but no. Nothing occurred to me. I acted out of blind panic. Looking back, I was incredibly selfish. But I just knew in my gut she was dead. All that blood, and she was all contorted and so very still…” A shuddering breath. “Maybe I’m just trying to justify my unforgivable actions. The truth? I don’t remember the hours right after that. One minute I was staring down the street at what I believed was a dead body, and the next minute I was on a train heading here.”

Atkins was writing things down on a pad, taking notes the old-fashioned way. “Why Upper Montclair?” he asked. “And how did you manage to settle in so quickly, both personally and professionally? It’s almost as if you knew you’d have to start over somewhere far away.”

Julie turned sheet white. “Wait—do you think I had something to do with Lisa’s murder?”

“Frankly, we don’t know what to think. But the Chicago detectives asked us to pay you a visit.”

They thought she was a killer? She felt that surge of panic and hysteria bubble up inside her again.

Abruptly, Milo poked his head into her office, coming to her rescue once more.

“Hey, Julie,” he greeted her. “The server is back up and…” He broke off, seeing the two men standing in front of Julie’s desk. “Excuse me. I thought you were alone.”

“It’s fine, Miles. Come in.” She beckoned him, trying not to look like she was grasping on to her life preserver. “These are Detectives Atkins and Brown. They have questions about Lisa’s death.”

Atkins turned to look at Miles in surprise. “You knew Lisa Barnes?”

Miles’ jaw tightened. “She was my best friend from the time we were kids. We were in foster care together.”

“And your name is?”

“Miles Parker.” He turned up his palms quizzically. “Why are the Montclair police investigating her death? She was killed in Chicago. And I had no idea there was an investigation at all. Why didn’t the police call me?”

“I’m not understanding this,” Detective Brown said. “Lisa Barnes was your best friend, yet you never spoke to the Chicago detectives, and you took off with her landlord right after she died?”

Miles looked appalled. “Took off with her landlord? Lisa put me in touch with Julie a week or so earlier. She said that Julie wanted to start her own gym and not work for anyone else. I’m a tech for Dell Computer, and I talk to people everywhere. I’d heard about this place. I knew it needed major work, but I also knew that all the equipment was in place. Julie wanted to own her own gym and was willing to relocate.”

His voice grew low and shaky. “Then Lisa was killed. Julie showed up at my doorstep, a complete wreck about what she’d seen. My only tie to Chicago was Lisa. I needed to get out of there. Julie needed a computer tech. So I went; we left together.” He swallowed hard. “As for the police, no one ever contacted me. Maybe they didn’t even know I existed. Lisa and I had agreed to each find our own place to live, after a lifetime of depending on each other. So I guess the cops assumed she was alone. I don’t know what they assumed. But I didn’t hear from anyone—not then, and not since.”

Atkins and Brown looked at each other.

Julie went the next step, turning teary eyes toward Milo. “The detectives seem to think I had something to do with Lisa’s murder. Or at least, that’s what I’m inferring from their line of questioning.”

“
What
?” Milo’s reaction was perfect. “Why the hell would you kill Lisa? You barely knew her. You gave her a job when no one else would. And you let her stay with you, borrow your clothes, learn about personal training and dealing with rich, snobby people. You were more of a friend to her in a week than anyone except me had been to her in years, maybe ever.”

His head snapped back to face the police. “What’s the motivation? Why are you dredging up Lisa’s murder? Are you just using Julie as a starting point? Do you plan to drag Lisa’s name through the mud?”

That perked up the detectives’ ears, just as Milo had planned.

Create a diversion. He was a master at that.

Sure enough, Brown asked, “Why? Is there something to dredge up?”

Milo pretended to look as if he wished he could recall those words. “Nothing that would make someone kill her.”

He sounded less than convincing, and Atkins took over. “Let us be the judge of that. What was she involved in? Drugs?”

Again, Milo looked less than forthcoming. “She lived a shitty life. So, yeah, she did a little drug running when she was young.”

“And when she wasn’t young?”

“Look, she didn’t share all the details with me. She was probably trying to protect me. But I know it turned out the gang she was dealing with back in the day were part of a bigger cartel. I think she met with a few bigwigs once or twice. That means she saw their faces and could identify them. Maybe that became a problem. I don’t know. But it’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Please, detectives.” Julie didn’t have to feign her anguish. “Please don’t harass us. Like Miles said, he was Lisa’s best friend. As for me, I just want to go on with my life and try to forget what I saw.”

“I’ll never forget losing Lisa,” Milo added. “If I knew who did this, I’d have to be restrained from killing them myself.”

Again, the two detectives exchanged glances.

“I take it you two don’t plan on leaving Montclair?” Brown asked.

“Of course not,” Julie replied. “I just bought a gym here and rented an apartment. Miles and I are splitting the rent and the space. Excalibur is my baby. I plan on making Upper Montclair my home.”

“So we can find you either here or at your apartment?”

“Yes. And you can call me anytime.” Julie handed them her business card. “My cell number is on there.”

Milo dug in his pocket and produced a rather wrinkled business card of his own. “Sorry. I don’t carry too many of these around with me. But my cell number’s on it. Use it, and share it with the Chicago cops. Like I said, I’d love to face the bastards who killed my friend so I could beat the crap out of them. Just give me the chance and it’s done.”

Atkins closed his notepad. “I think we have enough.” He shot Brown a let’s-go look. “We’ll be in touch.”